Don't think about it.
It will destroy you.
How can that be? I need to breathe. Breathing sends oxygen to my lungs, which keeps me alive…even that thought threatens to push me over the brink… but over the brink to what? Madness? Or am I already there? Maybe all I need to do is take that leap into the void. Maybe sanity will be waiting.
It's a ridiculous idea of course. That leap would mean letting go. And letting go is what I can't do. Which is why I'm tossing and turning and panicking in the first place. Why I'm desperately trying to forget about my pattern of breath. Because while my mind follows my breathing, every breath hitches in my throat. Every breath has to be forced in and out. If I think too much about breathing it's all I can do to keep inhaling.
I won't let myself get into the idea that maybe I'm thinking about my breathing because even this is better, easier, than thinking about anything else.
If I close my eyes and just keep trying, it'll go away. It has to. My body can't handle another sleepless night. Doesn't want to. My mind, on the other hand, has different ideas. In a way, it's beautiful, this self destruction. Thrilling is a better word, maybe. Pushing oneself past the limits of endurance…isn't that where strength comes from? Funny, really, that depriving myself of what I need is the ultimate survival strategy.
Or maybe I'm just crazy.
Now that I think of it, that makes much more sense.
My brain is overloading. My brain is about to burn itself out and there's nothing I can do.
Well that's not quite true.
Okay that's not true at all.
It's always there. There's always a way out. Unbelievable that all it takes is a bad case of insomnia to open that door.
Or has the door been open for a long time? Is there nothing between me and taking those steps forward except my own choices?
I don't know if I can continue to make this choice. It's not a choice that can be made once and done with. I have to decide again and again, every day and night. My strength is running out.
Of course, in the day it's different. I can resolve myself that I'll never change my mind. It doesn't make sense in the light. It's there, but lingering on the edges, as though not wanting to disturb anything.
Night is different. At night I can see into the dark. At night, I like what I see.
The day can always find another option. At night, the options have run out. The night is raw and lonely; there are no distractions or false hope. At night there's the truth; and the truth is between me and my own mind. At night I can hardly tell what's real and what's nightmare. That doesn't matter though. None of that makes an ounce of difference when it comes down to the truth.
I can't possibly imagine that this could ever make sense to anybody else. The sense it makes to me is the kind of logic that takes the long way around imagination to understanding.
If this wasn't so final, I would worry that it wouldn't change anything.
Maybe I should worry that it won't change everything.
Now I understand why I thought that jumping into the void would bring sanity. I haven't jumped yet, but I've taken that final, essential step. Now gravity is inevitably going to take its toll. I'm still on the edge but the only choice that's still in my hands is whether I jump or wait to fall. I've let it take me over. I've made the decision in the only way that will end the question.
And I've never felt better.
The compulsion carries me to the kitchen. To the drawer full of medicine. All sorts…I pour out some of everything. I want to go out with a bang…even if I'm the only one that can feel the bang. After all, I'm the only one that's ever mattered. I'm the only one that's real.
Of course, this is nowhere near the first time. But this time is different. This time I mean it.
This is real.
A note is unnecessary. I can't risk the emotions, or the time, either of which might lead me to change my mind. I could never make them understand anyway. All they'll remember is the potential that was lost. They can't possibly make sense of the pain. In order to even attempt to explain, I would have to knock down their walls, their delusions.
Let them regret the loss. They can't see the beauty in what I'm about to do. To force it on them would be cruel.
It all comes down to a split second decision. The easiest and hardest decision of my life.
My feet surrender their hold on the edge of the abyss. I take the plunge.
I swallow the pills.